Survivors of man
by Republic of Yolossia
Summary: The end of the world has left a family of nomads amongst the handful of survivors, travelling up and down the remains of Europe to escape deadly weather conditions. Meanwhile, on the other side of the world, a natural disaster occurs that may just make survival impossible.
1. The gentle end

_David Clarke – Australia_

 _Stefan Borisov – Bulgaria_

 _Joshua Clarke – Hutt River_

 _Luca Rotaru – Moldova_

 _Olympe Castil – Monaco_

 _Riley Greenwood – New Zealand_

 _Dragos Rotaru – Romania_

 _Ashleigh Clarke – Wy_

* * *

 _For phyripo!_

 _Eeeee I did a scream when I got you in the genfic because finally I could write you a fic with your human names! I tried my best to come up with a story that included most of the prompts and I think I managed? It's a strange combination of apocalyptic, road trip (in an incredibly loose sense) and supernatural... or at least magic. The magic is actually explained in the fic I promise. I also got most of the character groups you put! Um, I won't spoil too much here._

 _Anyway, this was really fun to do! But I am terribly slow so decided to make this a two-parter as opposed to a one-shot just... so you have something to read whilst I'm finishing this all up. Also cliffhangers._

 _Also, to explain the term 'Australian traps'... it's a reference to the ancient flood basalt volcanoes I based them on, the Siberian Traps, it's nothing to do with... yeah..._

 _Also I had to add Boris to the story hope you don't mind :0_

 _The title comes from 'End of Days' by Abney Park._

* * *

 _"The survivors of man stay up late to pray_

 _That the world will again be theirs one day"_

* * *

The end of the world was gentle.

Every year, humanity recorded colder winters. Winters that grew deadly like the gradual fear in the hearts of the sick, the old, the homeless who could not survive to see spring. People grew used to to storms and eruptions that devastated cities and heatwaves that ballooned deserts and left whole countries uninhabitable.

By the time Luca was born, billions had been reduced to millions then thousands living as either nomads or in fortified cities. The nomads he knew moved up and down Europe to escape cycles of deadly freeze and scorching heat in caravans.

He remembered Dragos joking that the winters were to keep them fresh to be cooked in summer.

Many people said Dragos Rotaru was a little sick.

Luca thought he was brilliant.

* * *

"Stefan is better with this," the voice of Dragos whispered through a mess of furs. Luca simply nodded as he – carefully – trudged through knee-deep snow. He didn't think Dragos was that bad – his eyes were as sharp as his tongue – it was just Stefan was more… adapted to hunting. But he had made sure to lend them his bow.

Even through his gloves, his hands were frozen. And the tip of his nose probably shone red like his ears would if his head wasn't buried in a fur hat. His cheeks were cold to the point that they were numb, luckily. He was supposed to be used to the cold, he guessed, being born into it, but man how was it possible to get used to life where the highest temperature was 0 degrees centigrade? There were temperatures above zero once?

"I'm sorry you're so bad at this," Luca joked, "there has to be a way to hunt using elemental magic, right?"

"There probably is, but I'd have no idea where to start," he thought for a moment, "I guess I could boil any animal I see to death. You know, mostly water and all." The brothers shared a grimace.

"Too cruel," Luca said for them both, "just shoot them and save your energy for cooking them."

If he was going to be honest, Luca wasn't all that keen on shooting them either. But they needed to eat. He'd had to bury his squeamish tendencies as a small child.

Dragos held out the arm he always stumbled into on hunting trips, and the brothers came to a halt.

"Tracks," he hissed. Luca nodded.

Now, things were getting interesting.

* * *

Stefan was having far less success in his own hunting endeavours. Or, rather, coaxing endeavours.

"Come on," he tried, send up a series of kissing noises to the roof of the caravan, and the fluffy white cat, sat proud like a mocking prince. "Boris, get down from there! Stop messing about!" He got a defiant meow in reply. "Czar Boris XXXVIII, I swear if you don't get down this instant-!"

Czar Boris XXXVIII began licking his paw and Stefan gave up. If he slipped and fell to his death, it was no longer Stefan's fault, as much as it would upset Luca. Maybe they could eat the thing and make a nice furry hat out of his skin.

He grabbed a ball of iron that became a spanner and dived under the caravan to work on the chassis, his tool changing and adjusting at will to fit his every need. He added skis to the wheels of the caravan for the long ride ahead before setting to work feeding their reindeer, letting them relax and roam free in the temporary paddock set up for them. Unfortunately, since he'd let Dragos name them, they were all called Luca followed by a number, and he had to wonder if the man had any other ideas for names. At all.

Not that Czar Boris XXXVIII wasn't, allegedly, ridiculous.

At some point, it began snowing again, falling fast and thick enough to obscure his vision, and Boris finally came down from the roof, meowing loudly and consistently until he was allowed inside again. Stefan saw him disappear down to the end to curl up on their mattress. Just what he loved: cat hairs up his nose when he was trying to sleep.

He set to work checking on the smokehouse when a loud cheer resounded through the forest. Stefan gave a yelp, almost falling face first into the smoky coals.

"Woah, careful there!" Dragos grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, pulling him back with a laugh. Luca, meanwhile, began warming his hands – unsuccessfully - on the coals simmering at the bottom of the hut. He gave a grumble.

"Here, I'll get a real fire going for you," Dragos told him. "Just close the hut before all the smoke gets out." Luca did as he was told, then moved to sit around a campfire Dragos made with the click of his fingers. Stefan, meanwhile, had crafted a shiv out of his ball of iron and set to work skinning the deer, lying strips of meat in the snow to hang in the smokehouse later.

"Reckon we have enough?" asked Dragos, "or should we spend tomorrow hunting too?"

Stefan paused, raising an eyebrow. "We're late as it is. No one's supposed to wait until we're almost covered in snow to begin migration." He bit his lip. "It's going to be dangerous enough as it is."

"Funny," Dragos tapped his chin, "I don't remember it arriving this early last year."

"The idea of winters becoming longer baffles you?" Stefan snorted, "they've never gotten shorter."

"Unlike you."

Stefan glared at him. "You got taller. Not tall enough to pass me, but definitely taller."

"Give me a few more years," Dragos winked.

"You're 26. You're done growing."

"What slander!"

"We can hunt on the way, surely," Luca piped up. Sometimes he felt Stefan and Dragos only talked to keep themselves warm, as opposed to communicate anything meaningful.

Stefan bit his lip. "I think, should it come to that, we might have to." He glanced between the brothers. "And for the love of nature go wash the blood off!"

Dragos laughed and pulled himself up to rustle up a hot bath, pouring fresh snow into a trench and boiling it with a wave of the hand. Luca glanced at the bubbling bath and wrinkled his nose.

"A little hot, don't you think?" he commented, "unless we're boiling the deer instead." Dragos rolled his eyes.

He threw in another bucket of snow before raising his hand. Dragos would speed up water molecules, make them vibrate fast enough to heat up, and could do it like it was nothing, but slowing down those molecules was a little trickier. Luca couldn't manage it at all yet.

At least, that was how Dragos explained the science behind that particular trick, from books written during 'the old time' when people were comfortable enough with their lives to dedicate time to understanding the universe. The few books they had weren't enough for Luca anymore, though, and he did suspect Dragos was completely making up most of his theories.

He'd heard, in some of the remaining cities – the ones fortified and sometimes spotted on the horizon as hulking, steely monsters – there were whole buildings dedicated to books of the old world!

He watched as Dragos cooled the water down to an acceptable temperature and began stripping, before – gently – giving him a push in.

"Luca!" he cried, close to dramatic tears as he splashed about in their makeshift pool. Dragos could swim, but he liked making a big show out of every minor struggle. Luca had to laugh at his look of betrayal.

"You think that's funny?" he cried in horror. With a scowl, Dragos waved a hand and the dirt under Luca's feet collapsed, sending him into the water too, furs and all.

"Dragos!" he spluttered, "now look what you've done!"

"It's revenge! And stop whining, you can dry them in no time." For added measure, he splashed water in Luca's face. The brothers descended into a splash fight that culminated with Dragos holding Luca's head under the water (jokingly, of course) until Stefan joined them in the tub with a cannonball.

Unfortunately, he miss-aimed his landing and almost squashed the brothers in the process.

Czar Boris XXXVIII looked on in arrogant amusement.

* * *

Dragos studied their map as, outside, Stefan guided the reindeer through the forest. The caravan rumbled under Luca's hands, and he glanced down at the rattling wood and blankets of the bench. He wrapped himself up tighter, as if that would make a difference to the snowstorm raging outside, blurring the shadowy figures of the trees outside to the point where they could be an approaching army.

Luca snorted. Were there enough humans left to make an army?

If he was being completely honest, no one really knew how many humans were left. The three of them occasionally met with other nomads, events that resulted in some spontaneous trading and shared laments for the future.

Luca was the sensible one of the family, but even he gave little thought to the future. It was best for everyone to take things one season at a time, concentrate on making it through each winter and summer and journey and, maybe, they could continue doing that for some time. How long? Luca didn't know.

The caravan came to a halt, and, minutes later, Stefan emerged through the door, covered in white.

"It's too snowy," he said, teeth chattering, "I can't see a thing." He shut the door and shook the snow off, which Dragos gathered into a pot with a flick of his wrist to boil later. "I'm gonna drive us off a cliff at this rate."

"Set up some shelter and Luc can start a fire," Dragos told him before slipping past, "get nice and warm."

"What will you do?" asked Stefan in that tone of voice that said he suspected Dragos was off to do something stupid.

"Quick hunt, just to see if there's any game nearby," Dragos replied.

Stefan gave a 'hmph', but didn't try and stop him, so Dragos climbed down into the snow. The forest loomed all around him, but he trudged on. Stefan may not be convinced, but Dragos was certain they would not survive the journey without more food.

Even if he had to resort to a cheap – magical – method of slaughter, Dragos needed to bring something home.

* * *

Well, this was going splendidly.

Dragos huffed as he kicked up fresh snow with his boots. There was nothing. The forest was empty of animal life and, as usual, it sent a jolt of fear into his heart, just for a minute, before he remembered that most animals also travelled south for the winter, to avoid the ice and deadly temperatures. Still, he did wonder if animal life was slowly becoming sparser, hunted and frozen to death.

He should've found something by now.

A twig snapped. Dragos froze.

He glanced around, but through the gloom and snow, he was almost blind. With one hand, he pushed the falling snow away, with the other, he lit a flame, flickering and providing him with licks of light.

A sea of yellow and green jewels flickered back at him.

Dragos went cold.

He was the only thing in this forest being hunted.

He wasted no time. The flame disappeared and he set of, lunging through the sea of snow in the general - probable - direction of the caravan. He gave a cry as he heard the wolves break into a run behind him, and even through his panicked cloud of a mind, he knew it was futile to run.

Dragos hurled a fireball blindly backwards, and doubled over from the effort. The wolves kept coming. He zigzagged between trees, screaming away any chance of his assailants losing him. Fireballs were thrown, but few did any damage.

The wolves were gaining. Dragos was tiring. His legs cried out with him as he braced himself for the final blow. This was the end. He tried to clear his mind, focus on Luca and Stefan because damn he was making sure those two were the last things on his mind.

Besides the pain of canines to the windpipe. He'd probably think about that.

Dragos spied a light in the distance and belted for it. Was it the caravan? Okay, this was stupid. All he was doing was getting the reindeer killed to save himself then they'd all be stuck, but damn he was terrified! He wasn't ready to die. Maybe Stefan could make a weapon and protect them all?

He hurtled on. The wolves closed the gap.

The light melted into the form of a woman just as a boulder of fur knocked him clean out.

* * *

When he woke up, the woman was hovering above him.

He couldn't speak, and could barely think, so took the time to study his apparent saviour. Well, he'd not been eaten, so he assumed he had her to thank.

The woman's fat braid fell over her shoulder, almost tickling his nose, and her fur coat was a deep red. She readjusted her monocle as she stared at him, eyes sharp and apparently dissecting his soul to search for its secrets. She would not like what she found, that was for sure. 90% of his mind was pure filth, with the rest reserved for how much he loved his brother.

He groaned, blinked, and decided to talk. "So, should I thank you or did you just want to do the job yourself?"

"Depends how irritating you are?"

"I see," he wiggled his eyebrows, "well, how do you want me to thank you? I'll do… anything."

"Wow, you are beyond irritating."

Dragos laughed. "Yeah, people usually tend to regret saving me. Just ask my family." He sat up, slowly and carefully. His head swam, but at least he was warm by the campfire she'd apparently lit whilst he was out. He felt like he'd been crushed, head pounding.

"There is something I would like of you though;" the twinkle in her eyes unnerved him.

"Really?" he asked, "out here? Frostbite isn't kinky!"

She laughed. "Will you please pull your mind out of the gutter, young man?"

"Dragos," he offered, "um, I'm Dragos Rotaru."

"I know."

"Of course you do." He glanced over at her, and the air of powerful magic even his juvenile abilities could detect overwhelmed him.

Her head snapped towards him. "I want to play a game."

"Now _that_ is kinky."

The glare she threw him was so poisonous he physically shrank back. "I want you to play me at poker. For a bet, of course."

Dragos didn't like that one bit. "What do I have to give you if I lose?"

"You mean when?" She smiled, "when you lose, you must let me read your future and tell you what I find."

He scoffed. "You know I can do real magic, right? Why would I bother with your pretend fortune telling?" He'd have been interested to see what she had to say, but he didn't know how long he'd been out, or if Luca and Stefan were getting worried about his absence. Who was he kidding? They always worried.

"I know," she said flatly, "you, Dragos, are of the elemental branch, like your brother. Your husband, however, is an alchemist. You are a fledgling sorcerer, though. Your powers are weak and you have not yet learnt how to harness the elements to the best of your ability. You will learn, in time."

"Oh I see," Dragos raised his eyebrows, "let me guess: your branch is divination."

"Of course."

"Explains how you know so much."

She laughed. "Oh, I know everything."

A challenge? "Oh yeah? Then can you tell me why I'm so broken inside?"

She gazed at him for a moment, studying his face before speaking. "The fact that a person can die out here so easily terrifies you," she stated. "The lack of future. You want to protect your brother but you are one man and your novice power cannot control these elements that could easily rip the boy from you. It torments you at night, knowing you and your brother and husband will be wiped out before your time."

Dragos gave a whistle. "Fuck, you're good."

"You know," she began in a mystical manner that lead him to believe this was going to be a story. He hoped it was a fun one, maybe with dragons. "Long ago, when humanity was young, just setting off to explore the world, they could perform magic in abundance. All different branches, and some grew powerful."

"Yeah? How powerful?" asked Dragos.

"An elemental in Sumatra caused a volcanic eruption that spread across the ocean to India and decimated the population. People died in their thousands and the area almost became barren."

Dragos chewed his lip. "That would probably be more impressive if I knew where those places were."

She sighed. "Look, they were super powerful. The thing was, there is only so much magical energy in the world. It's a closed system, like water. So as the population rose, and humans became more dominant, the magic grew weaker." Something in her expression seemed… sorrowful, like she'd been there to see it happen. "Until there were a handful of beings left, the ones strong enough to harness the magical energy that fell thin. They were killed, of course. Burned and drowned and condemned as evil, and the population kept growing. Soon, none could perform even the most basic of spells." She sighed. "Until-"

Dragos' eyes widened. "Until the world began to end and everyone died."

She raised an eyebrow. "You think the world is ending?"

"I… think the human race is close to ending. I'm sure the earth will go on without us, and life. I suppose."

She gave a throaty noise that might have been to convey amusement. "Now, about this game-"

"Hold up," Dragos stood up, finding he towered over this mysterious woman. She was tiny, but so was a wasp so he decided not to irritate her. "If you know I'm gonna lose, why should I play you? If you're a fortune teller who can win any game, why not reveal it… never, in this situation?"

Her eyes twinkled. "Because you want to hear your future."

Dragos chewed his lip. "Dammit."

"So," she asked, "what would you like if you win?"

Why in the fuck-? "What's the point?"

"Just tell me."

"Um, could you tell me your name?" he tried. It meant nothing to him, knowing her name, and, to be honest, he didn't even know if she was trying to keep it a secret, but he had to say something, right?

"That seems fair," she gave a nod.

"Look, can't you just tell me my future then let me go on my way?" Luca would be stupidly worried by now. Glancing up, he found snow swirling around him, spat down from an inky sky. Great.

"I need to play you to see your future clearly," she explained, "it's how I learn about how you see the future enough to predict the blanks. Sure, I get images, ideas. I knew I would find you running for your life, and that I could fight off the wolves with this," she pulled out a sword from inside her coat. Dragos whistled again. The sword was bright red with a hilt that looked like a dragon's claw and was the damned sexiest thing he'd ever seen. "But I don't know everything, just… signs. Ideas. About what will happen to you. You want a clear path ahead, right?"

Reluctantly, Dragos nodded. "I do. Fine, let's get this over with."

* * *

"Royal flush;" with a grin, she laid out her cards on the log they were using as a table, the log Dragos kicked in frustration, despite knowing full well he was supposed to lose. And he had. Every game. Playing a psychic in cards was probably the worst idea he'd had since going off to hunt alone.

"Are we done here?" he snapped.

She touched her temple mysteriously, presumably to infuriate him further. "Yes," she rasped, "yes, I think so."

He was going to bury his face in the smouldering campfire.

The infuriating lady didn't speak. She closed her eyes, reaching out for him as he just… sat there. Awkwardly. Was he supposed to do something? Say something? Take her hand? When she started grabbing blindly, he sighed and wrapped his long fingers around what had to be one of the tiniest hands he'd ever held, save for Luca's when he was a baby.

To his complete surprise, she started to tear up.

"I wanted to be wrong," she whispered, "I thought, if I saved you and talked to you and had a clearer idea of your future, things might be different."

"Let me guess," Dragos tapped his chin, blood boiling, "I have three days to live? No, why would you be upset about that? You don't know me."

"You and your family will come close to death during the next few weeks. Things are going to go horribly wrong, and all life will be pushed to the very edge," she told him, "after that, there are two possibilities."

"We live or we die?" Or one lives and the other two die. Or two die and one live. There didn't seem to be just two options here.

"You live, and you will muddle through the worst winter the planet has seen in hundreds of thousands of years. But-" Her face seemed to age in the flickering firelight. "But, be careful, when a Rotaru dies, so will the rest of humanity."

"When a Rotaru- Are you kidding me right now?" Dragos shot up. Fear for his brother's life aside, just what the fuck kind of bullshit was this? "When a Rotaru dies?"

"Yes."

"Everyone dies sooner or later!"

"I am aware."

"So all of humanity has until either my brother or I do something particularly stupid?" That could be tomorrow! "We're going to die eventually!"

"Let me spell it out in simple terms, then," her lips were thin, words spat with the frustration of dealing with a child who asked too many questions, which he was, in essence. "If you or your brother die within the coming winter then the rest of humanity will join you." It was almost amusing to see her trying to remain mystical whilst spelling out his bullshit future for him.

"And would you say that was correlation or causation?"

"Young man, I'm going to smack seven shades of shit out of you."

Dragos rolled his eyes. "You know what? I don't need this! You make me waste hours playing you at fucking cards to give me some bullshit prediction?"

"What were you expecting?" she asked, "me to tell you to not waste your energy? Only use your magic when absolutely necessary? Keep the cat inside?"

Dragos snarled. "Boris does what he wants!"

"I know."

"Anything else you know that I should?"

"Stock up on food."

"Thanks," he replied sarcastically, before wheeling round to storm off. He was done here! He needed to get back to the caravan before Stefan and Luca went wandering off to search for him.

"Oh, and Dragos?"

"What?" he cried.

"My name… my name is Olympe Castil."

He stared at Olympe incredulously. "I don't care!" He did care but fuck everything. Without another word, he stormed off.

"I'm sure we will meet again!" Her mocking voice rang in his ears and when he turned back around, she was gone.

* * *

"Oi, Riley!"

David, as it was generally recommended, was ignored.

"Riri," he tried again, "Riles! Don't pretend you can't hear me, you cunt! Rukka!"

Riley turned to him with a face like a smacked arse. "I'm busy," they hissed, holding a piece of equipment that looked like a cross between a water bottle and a lobster trap.

"Busy doing what?" he asked, "you drop the thing into the sea, pull out clear water, and boom! Theory disproved."

Over David's shoulder, off in the distance across the sea, was Melberra, the last outpost of Australian civilisation. A wall hugged the outskirts of the city, protecting it from sandstorm and opening up – just a fraction – to allow boats in and out. When hurricanes blew in from the sea, though, the gates were closed and the city cocooned.

It took a lot to scare David, having carried his siblings across the continent to find shelter, but when the winds howled against the walls of a city filling with water, he had to wonder for the future. Would they all end up mummified in the blistering heat or drowning in their cake tin city?

Riley raised an eyebrow. "'Theory disproved'? What, you don't believe me?"

"Course I do, mate," he said in the tone of a patronising parent.

Riley scoffed, finally pulling themselves away from the edge of the boat. "Listen, Clarke," never a good start; David shrank back. His friend looked ready to throw him overboard. "They didn't believe my Australian Traps theory, remember? They laughed! Said things could never get worse than a nationwide desert! But look at me now!"

Because who else would celebrate the discovery of a super volcano nearly the size of Australia right underneath the continent but Riley 'I proved you Aussies wrong' Greenwood?

"I believed you," David said softly. Riley smiled.

"I know you did, thanks."

David sighed. "So, you really think the oceans are stagnating?"

Riley chewed their lip. "I think the Tasman Sea is, but I cannot be sure about the rest of the world, especially since things are a little… chilly, elsewhere." They turned back to their doodad and began lowering the thing into the water.

"Have you two stopped arguing?" came the bored voice of Joshua, poking his head out to glare at them from the bridge. He'd only come along to steer the boat and sunbathe whilst David and Riley tested the quality of the water.

"We weren't arguing," Riley called back, "we were debating with enthusiasm."

"That isn't what you call it playing rugby," commented Ashleigh, right at the bow next to Riley. Her legs dangled between the railings and she'd already lost both thongs to the sea.

"That's different, Ash," David practically growled.

"Of course it is, Davo."

"Could you at least go to the stern if you're going to start your own argument?" asked Riley, tongue between their teeth as they lowered their… David swore they'd mentioned its name into the sea. It was for collecting water. They fed more wire into the water as the… fuck what was it slowly disappeared into the gloom. David, for once, watched in silence.

"So what are you looking for, anyway?" he asked after five minutes, breaking a silence Riley had actually welcomed. Ash, on the other hand, had disappeared to the stern to draw.

"Pink water," they replied.

"Pretty."

Riley smiled. "Yes, but not something you want to find on an oceanic scale."

"Oh really?"

"It means the bottom of the water is full of purple sulphur bacteria," they explained, feeding more wire, slowly and calmly. "It happens when lakes stagnate. The bacteria doesn't like oxygen, so when lakes lose their oxygen, these little bastards take hold, multiply and spit out sulphur that becomes sulphuric acid."

"And kills everything, right?"

"Yeah," Riley bit their lip, "so if this is happening to the Tasman sea…"

"We're a little fucked."

"To put it lightly." They glanced up at the blaring sun, not a cloud in the sky. "It means our summers are getting so hot the worlds oceans could stop circulating."

"Meaning a mass extinction of ocean life?" David, for one, wasn't only preoccupied with preserving humanity. As far as he was concerned, the more living creatures survived these tougher seasons, the better the world would become when things calmed down again. Because they would. The earth had recovered from worse.

"On a global scale," Riley gulped, "last time this happened, nearly everything in the ocean was killed off."

"It happened before?"

"Yeah, just before the dinosaurs. Shit got hot and killed nearly everything."

"I'm sure the people up north could do with a bit of heat now," he tried to joke before groaning. "Reckon I could… stir it all up a bit? Get things circulating."

For a second, Riley was almost impressed, before that look of an owner watching their pet dog take a dump on their sofa came back. "You want to stir the oceans?"

David shrugged. "I could do it."

"You'd probably die in the attempt."

"What if all four of us worked together?"

"We'd get this square mile a bit fresher, I guess," they glanced around, and began reeling in the wire, "then die in the attempt."

"Reckon we could get everyone in the world to help?"

Riley thought about it for a moment, reluctantly. "Even if every human being left was an elemental, I still couldn't say if it would be enough."

"Right, course," David nodded and set to pacing the bow, "I mean, you might not even be right."

"I usually am," came the reply, "surely you'd be used to it by now?"

"If you're so right, how come you can't come up with a theory as to why we can magic up waves and stuff?"

Riley glared at him. "I may have several theories, just none that are solid enough to present to a committee."

"Mean you haven't a fucking clue."

"I'll push you into the pink water!"

"I'd like to see you try!"

"Stop it!" came Josh's cry, David glancing up to find him sunbathing on the roof of the bridge. Well, he was currently glaring down at the two of them. He waved back cheerily.

"Um, David," came Riley's trembling voice.

Reluctantly David glanced back to see their little doodad back in their hands, filled with pink water.

Before either of them could say a word, the boat shuddered as the sky turned black and the entire continent of Australia opened up like a blister.


	2. Fireball earth

Riley may have heard David's shouts, seen him and Ashleigh out of the corner of their eye build a wave to push the boat as far away from the destruction as possible. Joshua's yelp as he fell off the roof and scrambled to the bridge went completely unnoticed.

Soot and ash bled into the sky. Lava covered the horizon like an infected sore and the wall of Melberra collapsed. The city itself was soon engulfed in a cloud and the ash kept coming.

"Riley!" David's voice was a smack in the face as they jumped to attention, "help us!"

Grabbing their tablet, Riley rushed to the stern to aid David in their escape. The boat shuddered and rocked, almost throwing them overboard, but they soon joined David and Ashleigh, just as the child doubled over with a groan.

"Ash, get your brother!" David told her, "get him to help and you steer the boat!"

Ashleigh stumbled to the bridge as Riley raised a hand. The wave propelling the boat away grew taller.

"How bad is it?" David called as Riley booted up their tablet, balancing the thing precariously on a seat whilst maintaining the wave. Josh joined them, and the boat sped off that bit faster.

"Is it safe to have the 12-year-old drive?" he cried.

"We have to get away from… fucking… that!"

Riley opened the app they built themselves and… almost dropped the wave in horror.

"It's the entire continent! The entire Australian Traps have erupted… just, burst… and the country's a lava field!" They screamed, "we're beyond fucked!"

"Well where do we go?" Josh looked terrified. He held himself tall, working his magic to the best of his adolescent abilities, but he trembled. His shaky hand almost sent them tipping over as black clouds covered the sky above their heads.

"New Zealand?" David offered.

"Ye-" they glanced at the tablet, "no, no, no! stay away from New Zealand!" Their blood ran cold. "Taupo's erupted too!"

"Taupo?"

"The entire area," the red dot on their map spread, still tiny compared to the entirety of Australia next to it, but they knew hundreds of their people would now be dead. "Fuck! Toba too!" Toba was a lake now, and certainly not somewhere they'd expected to erupt. Just what was going on?

"South then," David gave a nod and the boat turned sharply, throwing the three of them into the gunwale.

"What the hell?" came Ashleigh's cry as the other three tried to build the wave up again. A lump of something black crashed through the roof, narrowly missing her skull.

"South, Ash! We need to go south!" David raised his hands and the wave pushed hard, scooping up the boat as he tried to balance escaping from the volcano and its toxic debris to their right, and heading south to safety.

"It's the entire Pacific ring," Riley whimpered before David smacked the tablet out of their hands.

"Right, we get it," he growled, "end of the world and all. Are you gonna help us?"

Riley gave a shaky nod, pulling themselves to their feet. Ash and rock rained from the sky, and Australia was just a red, glowing line in the distance by now. Joshua doubled over, but kept his part of the wave intact. There was ash in their hair, on their lips now and they needed to get away before they choked to death.

"We're going to make it," they told the brothers. Josh didn't look convinced in the slightest; David, on the other hand, gave a determined nod, took their hand, and, together, they raised their wave to steer the boat to safety.

* * *

It took a week for the effects of the explosion to reach what was left of Europe. Luca and Stefan had even managed to forgive Dragos for disappearing on them in that time. Just about.

Luca still brought it up from time to time, and Dragos hadn't gone hunting alone since. The trio just kept travelling with occasional breaks to hunt, close to the caravan. They'd also cut down on meal sizes at Dragos' insistence.

Stefan still didn't know what to make of Dragos' story, of the strange lady who just happened to know everything about him and what was going to happen and, instead of doing anything to help, just told Dragos to… not die. Stefan and Luca knew better than anyone that Dragos was only still alive by some sheer miracle.

Luca, at least, was a little easier to keep alive.

Unless Dragos was in danger, then Stefan knew he would have no chance of keeping him safe as he flew into a destructive rage that would leave no one but Dragos alive.

Why had he thrown his lot in with the Rotaru brothers again?

He glanced over at the two of them, sprawled out on the mattress whilst he huddled by the stove. Snow continued to fall past the windows, and he stared, unmoving, thoughts churning in his head and making him feel unbearably heavy. The fire crackled, but no living sounds kept him company. Besides, of course, Dragos' occasional conversations in his sleep, muffled by the blankets and straight up more ominous than any prophecy of doom.

The caravan was blue, something his father built when the family first became nomadic. Dragos had offered to 'repaint' it but Stefan would never allow such a thing – it was too important to him, plus Dragos' designs would probably be terrifying.

"Snowball… fireball… chances… the edge…"

It had been a lonely life, between the death of his parents and finding the Rotaru brothers, one he'd barely lived. With so few people about – to cling to -, loneliness was almost guaranteed, so he was grateful. And thankful. To them, and to himself for actually stopping to pick them up.

"Death… black inky heart bleeding… lake of death…"

Dragos turned over in his sleep and the rest of his horrifying tirade was lost. Boris darted out from under a blanket to seek refuge in Stefan's arms for once.

"Hey, don't mind him," he muttered, stroking the cat's fur as he began to kneed at his chest. Painfully. "Hey, stop that. Are the claws really necessary?"

When Boris finally settled down on his stomach, it had begun to rain, of all things. Stefan winced, making a note to himself to pile sandbags by the door before going to sleep. Rain meant storms 99% of the time and the last thing they needed was waking up to find the caravan had been flooded. At least the reindeer were secured.

It was a comforting sound, the rain pattering against the roof like a rockslide and – after finally peeling Boris off him, claws and all – Stefan piled sandbags by the door and settled back down to sleep by the fire.

* * *

Dragos awoke to the sound of screaming.

He was up like Boris upon smelling food, leaping out of bed to where the sound was coming from: outside the door. He wrenched the thing open to find Stefan half-buried in snow, clutching his face like he was being attacked by the… rain?

Ignoring the fact that it was not supposed to be raining this time of year, Dragos threw himself into the snow to get to him.

"Stefan!" he cried, "what's wrong?"

He found out almost immediately.

"What the hell?" The rain… hurt! It scratched at his skin and burned his eyes as he buried his face in his furs. "Stefan! Are you there?" He fumbled blindly, tripping in the snow.

"Dra- Get back inside!" The voice of Stefan was wonderfully near, and Dragos reached out to grab his arm.

"And leave you out here? Come on!" His scalp burned and tingled as the rain kept coming, but he pulled himself and Stefan to their feet, despite the other man's protests to be left behind. And when they reached the caravan, Luca was there to pull them in through the doorway to safety.

Dragos collapsed next to a whimpering Stefan, writhing as those whimpers boiled into screams. He was still clutching his eye as blood caked his cheeks.

"Steff! Steff what happened?" Dragos cried as Luca grabbed a ball of water from a nearby bowl.

"Out the way! Steff, I need to wash you and take a look at the wound." Stefan howled in response.

"Steff!" Luca yanked Stefan's arms away from his face to wash it with the water orb, and Dragos got a glimpse of a stream of gore running down Stefan's face, and the hole where his eye used to be.

And slipped out of consciousness, much like slipping on ice and knocking himself clean out.

* * *

When he pulled himself out of his fainting spell, Dragos found Stefan groaning on the bed, and Luca mopping up blood on the floor. He – slowly – pulled himself up to lean against the wall.

"Thanks for leaving me on the floor," he mumbled.

Luca tutted. "You really weren't a priority."

"What do you mean?"

He turned away, but Dragos still caught his grimace. "The rain took Stefan's eye."

Stefan groaned in reply, sprawled out on top of their blankets. Having had more than his fair share of knocks in the past few days than he'd have liked, it took a while for Dragos to get up and join him.

"Steff?" he whispered, "Stefan, you still hanging on?"

Stefan was a mess of bandages, half his face covered in white, and his remaining eye poked out, barely seeing. His skin was red and blotchy too, like he'd sat too close to the fire again and gotten burnt.

"Yeah," he rasped, "fucking regret waking up this morning."

"One of those days, yeah." Dragos breathed out a laugh; "what the hell happened?"

Stefan shrugged, still giving the occasional groan of pain. "I just went outside and… the reindeer were all dead… everything hurt. The sky was trying to melt me, just like it did with Luca 2, 3, 4-"

"I get the idea," Dragos grimaced, "poor Luca deer."

"Am I useless now?" The question caught him by surprise, and even Luca looked over in horror.

"Of course not," said Dragos, "come on, surely you know we just keep you around for your humour anyway." Stefan laughed.

"We shouldn't go outside until the rain stops," Luca sighed, "if it wasn't obvious."

"We have some supplies," Dragos added, "enough for a few days, if we ration appropriately and don't just eat because we're bored."

"Is this really the time to start throwing shade?" growled Luca.

"Just… don't let me catch you stuffing your face, alright?" Dragos turned back to Stefan, and began stroking his hair. Luca soon joined them, wrapping his arms around his brother.

"You don't need to worry," the boy said, "the rain will pass before tomorrow, and then we can move on."

"We don't have any reindeer," Stefan hissed, "how are we supposed to move?"

"Tomorrow, I'll go out and find some new deer," Luca told them, "or horses. Animals like me, and I'm sure I can tame them enough to pull the caravan."

"It's risky," Dragos warned him, trembling slightly in that way he only did when he was worrying about the boy.

"Look, we don't have to worry until the morning, right?" Luca shrugged, "I'm gonna work on my knitting to pass the time; I'm sure you'll find a way to amuse yourself today.

* * *

As it turned out, Dragos did not need to worry about their animal problem or the acid rain when they woke the next day. What he did need to worry about, however, was the fact that their caravan was buried to the roof in snow.

* * *

"So now what?"

Riley should have expected this. The end of the world, being friends with David and his siblings, of course the four of them would go out like this. Okay, they'd not expected it to be somewhere in the middle of the Indian Ocean on a boat that could easily be capsized, but the 'let's see what happens' attitude was surrounding them all.

When the volcanic clouds caught up with them, they'd retreated to the hull as acid rain pummelled the floating wood and thankfully didn't destroy it enough to sink the thing. Yet. Riley didn't know if they could expect more – their tablet ran out of batteries days ago. Unfortunately, their food stock was close behind.

"We wait til we've recovered," Joshua told the group, sprawled against the bulwarks, "and then we make a dash for land. I don't even care where."

"I think there's a settlement on the horn of Africa," Riley muttered. "We can just follow the sunset or something."

"Riles," said Ashleigh, "are we gonna die?"

"How on earth am I supposed to know that?"

"I dunno. You're supposed to be the smart one."

"Only because I'm surrounded by Australians."

David snorted. "If you were really smart, you wouldn't piss off a bunch of Aussies when we're all stuck at sea on a tiny, tiny boat."

"Like you'd do it," Riley scoffed, "I know you all love me."

"We're not dying though," David's smile fell, "it's just not our style. When we get our strength back, we'll head for land and… find some people, I guess." He shrugged. "We'll quit when we're dead."

"And then what?" Joshua looked around at them all, "what happens when we get to dry land and find people?"

"We survive," said David, with determination.

"Survive what?"

David bit his lip. "Fuck mate, I dunno." He turned to Riley; "what can we expect?"

"An excellent question." It was a good few moments before they spoke again. "Yeah no, we're fucked."

"Great," muttered Joshua, "just fantastic."

"I don't wanna die," Ash stared at Riley, eyes wide, pleading.

"No one's gonna die-"

"They just said we're all going to die, David!"

David sighed. "Riles, don't scare the kids."

"I'm just being honest. I don't know how long we'll survive. We could get by, but humanity as a whole? It's on its last legs."

"And what was it before?" David raised an eyebrow.

Riley reached into one of the many pockets on their shorts, pulling out a plastic bag containing tiny, shiny, rocks. "Pyrite," they told the group, "or Fool's Gold, to you. Um, that's what it's called. I'm not saying you're all fools. This time. But it's formed due to a lack of oxygen."

"Do you just carry rocks around all the time?" David raised an eyebrow.

"Yes."

"For scientific demonstrations, or to weigh down your tiny, tiny body?"

"Fuck you. Look," they held up the rocks, "these form on the sea bed when there isn't enough oxygen. We've found them in rock from the end of the Permian period."

"And again with the Permian," said David, "you think this is all happening again or is it just your favourite period in prehistory? Mine's the Ediacaran."

"I know. I've been looking into the end-Permian extinction ever since I came up with the pink water theory," they explained.

David snorted. "Nice to see you looking into something other than gloryholes."

"Not in front of the children!" cried Riley.

"Pah," David waved a hand, "does it matter anymore?"

"Well I mean," Josh piped up, "I kinda want to jump into the ocean now. Like, you know, before? I was still hopeful about making it through the end of the world. Now I don't even want to try."

"I can't believe I raised such a quitter," David muttered.

"Be that as it may," said Riley, "we do know what happened last time there was an eruption this size. I hate to be a prophet of doom-"

David disguised a scoff with a cough. Poorly.

"But we're in for some chilly times ahead," they threw him a glare, "a volcanic winter is unfairly hard to survive."

"I fucking hate the cold," he mumbled.

"Well, lucky for you it's not permanent. Because then the world's getting hot. The same clouds that will give us this winter, will boil the earth, creating global deserts, stagnating the seas, killing every living thing on earth. We're going to die in ice, then fire."

David, to their total surprise, just looked more determined than ever. "Fire? Come on! We can take a bit of heat! Fire can't kill a dragon and it certainly can't kill Australians."

Riley raised an eyebrow. "Dragons don't exist, and neither do Australians now, besides you three. But sure, fuck it. The earth will have to disintegrate before you morons give up."

* * *

"You know, we will probably have to eat Boris soon," Stefan warned Luca as he helped himself to more stew. Luca, for his part, ignored him.

It had been a week now, and the three of them had not seen the light of day, not once had there been a peek of sunlight. They could only really guess at how much time had passed, based on how many times they felt the need to sleep. It could've been longer, it could've been a few days. Dragos insisted it was a week though.

"If cats were at all tasty, don't you think we as a species would've realised by now?" the man in question reasoned, and Boris decided he'd be safer sitting on Luca's lap.

They were nearly out of food. No food meant they'd grow hungry, desperate, too weak and unfocused to hunt. So their hunts would be unsuccessful. Making them hungrier. And weaker. And Luca was starting to panic. Would anything out there even have survived this big freeze to hunt?

At least they wouldn't run out of water.

They'd closed the door to keep the snow from piling in, but everyone could see through the windows that they were still. Completely. Buried. Dragos had offered to move the snow, but even he hadn't tunnelled far before collapsing with exhaustion. And all the work he'd done had been for nothing, as more snow had soon cave in to fill the hole again.

Even now, Dragos was still recovering. Or sulking. Either way, he was lying in a tub of hot water, soaking himself until he wrinkled for want of anything else to do. Luca was huddled by the fire, but they were quickly running out of things to burn. Stefan, meanwhile, was doing the only other thing they could freely do: sleep.

Luca was sure Stefan was having a great time, but his snores added to the eerie world they found themselves stuck in.

Not to mention it was a fucking irritating noise.

"I can't take it anymore!" Dragos shot up, having presumably lost his mind from the sound of snoring. "I'm giving it another go!"

"Could you put some clothes on first?" No point in shifting a whole bunch of snow only to lose body parts to frostbite.

As Dragos piled on more and more layers, Luca tried his best to convince his brother not to attempt magic again, not after the state it put him in last time. He couldn't shift that much snow at full health, let alone stumbling around the caravan like a drunk toddler. And yet, despite all warnings, Dragos decided to charge ahead anyway, because he was Dragos Rotaru and he did what he wanted.

And what he wanted to do was get out before his brother starved to death. A noble cause, Luca supposed, but not at the cost of his own life.

"Stand back," Dragos began as Luca punched Stefan in the stomach so he'd wake up and – hopefully – talk some sense into his moron of a husband.

"Who died?" Stefan muttered, wiping drool from his mouth.

"Dragos if he keeps being stupid!" cried Luca, waving his arms, "he's going to try and melt us out again!"

"Dra, no," Stefan, with great difficulty and no depth perception, hauled himself up and stumbled over to the door, where – a thankfully fully-clothed – Dragos was leaning against the frame. Snow pooled on the floorboards under his boots. "You can't!"

"Stefan," said Dragos, voice flat but firm, "we don't have a choice. This snow won't have melted before we all starve to death."

"You're a self-taught novice," he said, "you're not powerful enough for this!"

Dragos glared at him. "I have to do something! I'm not letting either of you die, and if I have to sacrifice myself, then so be it!"

"And maybe neither of us want to live without you," said Luca.

"Speak for yourself," Stefan piped up, presumably as a joke.

"Look, if we're going out, then let's go together! Side by side as family!" Luca bit his lip. "What about the prophecy? Can either of us afford to die?"

Dragos snorted, "I take magic seriously as the next person, but either way, I'm going to die."

"And I'm going to have to live to see the end of the world."

"Sounds fun," Dragos slapped his shoulder, "you'll have a great time." And he raised his arms. Luca had never seen this expression before, the fierce determination in his eyes as his mouth twisted into a snarl.

A fireball formed between his hands, one he hurled right at the wall of snow. And another, and another. Water pooled at their feet. Dragos stepped into the gap he created and threw fire in the air. He swayed, but fire continued to stream from his hands, blasting away snow until he'd created a small cavern.

"Dragos…" Luca saw him buckle.

Dragos just screamed. Luca exchanged horrified glances with Stefan, then marched forward to help. He raised his arm to cast his own fireballs, joining his brother as they blasted snow away. Stefan crafted himself a shovel and ran forward to help. The ceiling fell away, and a waterfall of daylight burned at their eyes.

"We're free!" Luca cried, pulling Dragos into a hug. "You did it!"

Stefan stepped forward to widen the tunnel with his shovel as Luca and Dragos held each other up. They stared, breathless, at stony clouds above their heads, at a sky that - until that very moment - Luca had accepted he'd never see again. Stefan took his hand and pulled him up, and the three stumbled up onto dunes and dunes of snow. it was a flat world now, only the tips of trees poking out of fields and fields of snow and ice.

"What the hell?" Luca peered out, the world before him barren. There was not a hint of blue in the sky, and the clouds were almost black. It was still snowing, already clinging to his cheeks.

"This might be the end," Stefan murmured next to him.

Behind them, there was a groan and a smack of crunching snow as Dragos hit the ground. Luca wheeled around.

"Dragos!"


End file.
